


Waiting in the Dark

by CorsetJinx



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The streets of London are hardly safe, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting in the Dark

The sound of his hurried footfalls over the grimy cobblestones echoed back from glistening brick walls and the occasional trespass over dirt and grass, further confusing his ears and making any attempt at listening for pursuit nigh on futile. Still, the feeling of being watched, pursued, stuck to the back of his mind like tar on the skin – spurring him to run faster, farther, until he was more an animated jumble of limbs than a coherently running grown man.

He didn’t care who saw him in such a state, propelled only by the thought of getting away from the thing that chased, no, hunted him. Because that’s what this was, what it felt like – his heart skittering off his ribs and his eyes fixed wide, almost blankly ahead so long as the path lead _away_.

A snap decision had him make a sharp right turn, ducking into an unlit alley and hurtling down its length until he had to stumble to a stop or risk tumbling over something in the dark. His breathing, too fast, too thin, seared his lungs with every inhale and the coldness of the air did absolutely nothing to help.

Objects slowly came into focus as he braced himself with one hand on the nearest wall, leaning more heavily than originally intended as his body started to process that he hadn’t _stopped_ even once before now – from one borough of London to another, his muscles burning with agitated proof of the ordeal. Before him was someone’s refuse – what might have been the cracked open remnants of a crate and God knew what else.

His nose was beginning to process the smell and wrinkled accordingly.

Shaking, he turned to regard the path he’d taken, feeling as though his heart must be bruised from the recent exertion. Surely it must be, since his legs were jelly and his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing for longer than a second.

Even so, he could make out the half-circle of light that managed to breach the darkness at the mouth of the alley – with it the unassuming visage of the buildings on either side of him, the cobblestones, and the deepening dark the closer it got to where he stood.

Nothing moved, living or supposedly dead. Except for him.

A flicker of shadow passed over the mouth of the alley, racking his heart right back up to its previous pace. The urge to run welled up from somewhere deep in his insides, curiously cold as though he’d been splashed with chilled water.

Was it them, the ones he’d spent the night trying to outrun, to escape?

Forcing his legs to straighten and dropping his hand from the wall, braced to run, he squinted – tried to discern whether the shape he’d glimpsed could have been a person.

Something warm hovered over him, he noticed too late – hearing only a soft voice and the puff of heat that came from the figure’s breath against his ear –

“Boo.”

_Snick._


End file.
